s he sat, and drew in his arm:
though even now he was not aware of any need to do so. The invisible
Aaron breathed with relief in the bows, the boat swung steadily on, into
the deep, unfathomable water again.

They were drawing near a city. A lake-city, like Mexico. They must have
reached a city, because when Aaron woke up and tried to piece together
the dream of which these are mere fragments, he could remember having
just seen an idol. An Astarte he knew it as, seated by the road, and in
her open lap, were some eggs: smallish hen's eggs, and one or two bigger
eggs, like swan's, and one single little roll of bread. These lay in the
lap of the roadside Astarte.... And then he could remember no more.

He woke, and for a minute tried to remember what he had been dreaming,
and what it all meant. But he quickly relinquished the effort. So he
looked at his watch: it was only half-past three. He had one of those
American watches with luminous, phosphorescent figures and fingers. And
tonight he felt afraid of its eerily shining face.

He was awake a long time in the dark--for two hours, thinking and
not thinking, in that barren state which is not sleep, nor yet full
wakefulness, and which is a painful strain. At length he went to sleep
again, and did not wake till past eight o'clock. He did not ring for his
coffee till nine.

Outside was a bright day--but he hardly heeded it. He lay profitlessly
thinking. With the breaking of the flute, that which was slowly breaking
had finally shattered at last. And there was nothing ahead: no plan, no
prospect. He knew quite well that people would help him: Francis Dekker
or Angus Guest or the Marchese or Lilly. They would get him a new flute,
and find him engagements. But what was the good? His flute was broken,
and broken finally. The bomb had settled it. The bomb had settled it and
everything. It was an end, no matter how he tried to patch things up.
The only thing he felt was a thread of destiny attaching him to Lilly.
The rest had all gone as bare and bald as the dead orb of the moon. So
he made up his mind, if he could, to make some plan that would bring his
life together with that of his evanescent friend.

Lilly was a peculiar bird. Clever and attractive as he undoubtedly was,
he was perhaps the most objectionable person to know. It was stamped on
his peculiar face. Aaron thought of Lilly's dark, ugly face, which had
something that lurked in it as a creature under leaves. Then h